Random Letter 2

Dear Random Person No 2,

First thing first, I stopped talking not because of some envy thing going on. As I said plenty of times, I'm not mad at you because of the jealousy thing. I'm mad at the mindless .. people. Get that into your head alright? You're better than me in some aspects and I'm better than you in other aspects. Savvy?

Now, to the real reason. You were the middle person between me and a mutual friend. A middle person has to be fair. Not practically tell me its all my fault. And not see how the other person might have contributed to it. Definitely not by making me feel worse.

Of course, you telling other mutuals that we're not talking anymore due to my jealousy? Really mature. I thought I was the immature one. At least I don't tell people unless they ask me and I'll only say "We're not talking at the moment. Change subject now!".

That's all I wanted to say. And taking your cue in jumping to conclusions, I'm jumping to the conclusion that our friendship is over. Prove me wrong. Or not. I'm not caring anymore. Just, stay away from some people.

*brushes dirt off my shoulders before going away*

Hanis.

Confession No.15

There's this thing known as flipping someone off.

And I'm aching to do it to someone.

Oh yeah, I so think you were lying a few hours ago.

*flips you off*

First Random Letter.

Dear Random Person No 1,


I'm not even sure if you read my blog. Right now, I'm in a state of being paranoid. I'm wondering if I did something wrong. If you're mad at me. If you think I did something ghastly. I must admit that I've been busy for the past few weeks. Assignments/tests/quizzes took my nights which I hope tells you that I'm not abandoning our friendship.

Perhaps after knowing each other for about 8 semesters had accustomed me to the way you word out your messages. Perhaps I'm just reading in too deep but lately, when you do reply, it lacks the usual warmth. Once, I let it slip. Twice, I start to wonder. Thrice, I putmy phone down and feel sad.

Is this the end of a friendship I really value? Please give me a slap and tell me you've been stressed/busy and I'm just paranoid. But I don't think I'am.


To quote you:

"Love you dear, take care,"

Love,
Hanis.

Poem: Fake Envy.

Pride at success full of deceit
Makes me sick to my tummy.
Don't be fooled at my fake jade coloured emotion
Inside I'm full of disgust.
The crowing of victory
Is as underhanded as stealing from a baby.

Amortentia, Personalised.

Raise your hands if you're a Harry Potter fan who has read all the books enough time to tell it in your sleep.

In Harry Potter & The Half Blood Prince a magnificent potion appeared in Slughorn's first class. Yes, I'm talking about:

Amortentia

Its the love potion with characteristic spiral smokes and smell differently to each individual based on what attracts them. To a 16 year old me, it was a wonderful potion. To a now, 22 year old me, it tells me that love, has a smell. Not just one smell but a blend of them that only appeals to one person.

Imagine how many blends there are in this world!

So If you're like me, you're probably wondering how will love smell for you. And then, perhaps your mind started to give a suggestion on the components in your own blend of love. Taking cue from the book, it will be a mix of 3 smells. Three, perhaps common every day smells that you've been taking for granted.


Oh, what do I think love will smell like for me?

Well I've thought about this for about 4 years now perhaps, love will smell like:


Chocolate- I love chocolate, but only in dark or milk chocolate form. Rarely with nuts/caramels/fruits or anything. Especially not white chocolate. Yuck. Once upon a time, I knew someone who smelled like chocolate. And I was the only one who thought so. And till this day, if I take a sniff from a bar of milk chocolate, I'll smile like an idiot. Truly.

With a hint of

Books- Everytime I buy a new book, I'll flip the pages and take in the smell, even getting as far as pressing my nose against some random page. Some might say it's the smell of ink. But no. Books got that own smell which is not merely paper + ink. And like wine, the older the book, the more ... fine the smell will be. More full. Nothing comforts me the way a book does.

And of course

My bed & pillows after being away from them for awhile- Every week, when I come home from the hostel I'll take a shower and without getting dressed first, I'll bury my face in my pillows, spreading myself on the duvet with a satisfied sigh as all the burden/stress/fatigue of the week seems to melt away. Am I the only one who thinks that her own bed is just .. so .. "You're finally where you belong" smelling?

I might like how hotel beds are all bouncy while the pillows are all fluffy and how there's so many layers to the bedclothes. But I'll never feel comfortable enough or belonged enough on it. And no, I'm not referring to the the smell of unchanged sheets because I change mine every fortnight and still get the feeling after so.


*clears throat*

And that's how I think my Amortentia would smell like.

Perhaps it just means that the love of my life the guy would feed me chocolates and read for me while we're cuddling in bed?

Or perhaps this is one of those things that our brains and hormones have determined over time.

Who knows?

How will your Amortentia smell like? Tell me.

Peace Out.

Week 7- Books.

This has to be the hardest post yet.

Do you read? If you do, what is your 3 fave books?


But I thought you love to read Hanis.

I do.

But I can't choose 3 favourites without 5 more tumbling after.


How do I define favourite?


By the number of times I read it?

Then Harry Potter 5 and 6 will be 2 of the 3.


By how I was affected by the book?

Mario Puzo's The Family and a handful of Jodi Picoult's books will be there.


By how excited I was in getting the book into my hands?

Once again, the Harry Potter books and the Black Dagger Brotherhood series.


This is so not helping.


Here's three books that I feel one should read. Because I love those books, regardless of the number of times I've read them. And perhaps because I learned things from them.


1. A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett

I bought this book when I was 13. What is it about? About keeping oneself optimistic even in the darkest night. When your only friends are a rat, the scullery maid in the other side of the attic and a scared girl in a room below.

Why do I like this book? Sara Crewe is a child, who even in her hardest times didn't grew to be cynical or jaded.


2. Mercy by Jodi Picoult

You have one married couple where the terminally ill wife makes her husband kill her. And you have the other married couple, the sheriff husband who yearns but to travel who falls in love for his wife's assistant at her florist shop.

Yeah, it sounds depressing. I cried reading this. A lot of time. I don't agree with the infidelity. I cried for the wife. I cried for the first husband, especially when he says his wife was selfish. All she cared about was ending her pain, not caring that her husband will be in big trouble for killing her.

This book taught me the 70-30 concept.

"I just don't want to hurt him,"

A smile stole across Jamie's face, so completely transforming him that Allie would have not recognised him if she'd seen him on the the street.

"Then you're the one,"

Allie blinked at him.

"The one what?"

"The one who loves more. You know it's never fifty-fifty in a marriage. It's always seventy-thirty or sixty-forty.

Someone falls in love first.

Someone puts up someone else on a pedestal.

Someone works very had to keep things rolling smoothly.

Someone else sails along for the ride.

I'm the one like you," Jamie said.

"The one who fell first. The one who would do anything to keep it the way it was at the beggining,"



3. Anybody Out There? by Marian Keyes.

If you read chick-lit, read any books by Marian Keyes. Her books are often filled with dark themes which makes them better than those sugar floss books.

This book made me cry. Yes, again. You start reading about a woman moping around after a terrible accident, often calling her boyfriend but to no answer. You're bound to think what a jerk.

Halfway through, you'll find out that it is actually her husband she keeps sending emails to, unread and calling to hear his voice message and that he actually died in the accident.

Denial. She didn't accept that. Then she went on a journey to find his spirit because she believe he wanted to tell her something. The last chapter made me cry. It was bitter sweet. She finally moved on after a dream about him. And when she woke up, a butterfly was flying around, landing on their wedding picture, his couch and finally on her nose. It was saying goodbye to her.


So, yes, all of those books have people dying. And of people moving on. And of me crying. I just love them. Like, amazingly love them. Read them.


Mozart's choice would probably be more deeper.
Peace Out.

My Vain Moment. Let Me Have It.

I had to get glasses when I was 14 and from then it was 4 years of ugliness. I didn't look like a sexy nerd. Regardless of how my glasses looked like. I was still awkward looking. So imagine my delight in getting contact lenses around my 19th birthday.

I loved it so much that most of my current classmates don't know that I'm half-blind visually challenged due to never wearing glasses to class.

When do I wear them?

At night or when I'm home, stuck there with no probability of going anywhere.

So do you see how vain I'am in this area? How I refuse to wear my cool looking Mashimaro glasses to class? They are cool. Black with white design at the sides.

Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I got a stye on my right eye. *hears screams of horror*

Its swelling and I'm frantically considering skipping classes till I'm alll good.

The doctor says its not infectious and I'll be good in 3-4 days, the quickest. *hears more screams* And it just has to be my luck that this week's classes are all important. I got group discussions. Replacement classes for about 6 hours. A Listening Test. And other blooody idiotic things.

I'm also considering buying an eye patch. And say that I'm chanelling my inner Mrs. Jack Sparrow.

*sighs*

Don't worry, I'll go to class once I convince myself no one will notice.

I've been living with having zits. What is a stye, right? *tries to convice myself*

Peace Out.

Confession No. 14

New resolution:

Bluntness.

Breathe it deep.

Make it part of yourself.

Complete.

Confession No. 13

Out of all people?

Stay the fuck away.

When I Give You a Tip, Take It.

I was in that stage between wonderful-naptime-where-I'll-dream-about-books-and-hot-guys and staying-awake-while-waiting-for-Mozart-to-come-back-from-his-shower when I read a post that made me laughed.

I commented.

Got inspired.

And here I'am.

Read this first.

I had several convos that were ... in the same manner. Just few adjustments here and there.


Note: All this happened in Malay so excuse the wonderfulnormal English.

Classmate:Hanis, how did you get so good in English?

Hanis: I read a lot.

Classmate: Read?

Hanis: Yes. Like, novels and such. I don't think I have any Malay novels at home.

Classmate: Oooh, like Twilight?

Hanis: ... other than Twilight.

Classmate: Gossip Girl!

Hanis: Anything that is not chick lit. Jodi Picoult and Jeffrey Archer got some great books.

Classmate: But ewwww, I don't like reading other books. They're so boring.


Hanis is tempted to smack classmate with the thick Marian Keyes book in her bag.


Why the fuck would you even ask me for advice and not try it out? My English is not top-notch. I have grammar problems (Ask Mozart) when I'm lazy. I have problems spelling certain words such as comfortable, professor and jewellery

Dad has this thick, big, heavy, hell-ish dictionary that he keeps in my room. Why? Everytime I ask him the meaning of a word he'll tell me the dictionary is in my room for a bloody reason. Yes, I've used it while reading a book and coming across a word I don't understand.

If said classmate asked me again, I'll tell her to read/watch/listen to anything in English. I do that. I get called (jokingly I hope) a traitor for admitting that I DON'T read Malay novels, watch Malay movies/dramas and the songs? I only know a handful. Which explains my lack of knowledge about the local entertainment industry.

Yeah, yeah, call me whatever you want. I'm not saying they're on a lower standard. Its just a matter of preference. And I admit that I make grammatical mistakes all the
time. Just perhaps less than some people.

Next time someone asks me how to get better in English, they better not show any emotions other than joy when I tell them to read.

Peace Out.

Mental Barriers Begone.

Today, I went to a wonderful talk entitled 'World of Actuaries". It was informative, interesting and the guy even made a Star Wars reference. In the seats around me, I was the only girl laughing. I think. So, one of the things that stuck to me was the slide on mental barriers.

The guy, a real, qualified actuary with all 10 papers under his belt told us to never think that we can't do it. Even though if you failed a paper once, twice or even thrice. Never go all:


"I'm not smart enough,"

"Everyone else is smarter than me,"

"I'm too dumb to do this,"



While listening to that, I was reminded of a highschool classmate I knew around 2002-2005-ish. She was .. sensitive. Like, easily offended to anything people say or do. Sometimes, people won't even mean it as an insult and she goes all huffy. Or sulky. Or pull herself away and go into that place within herself.


Hey, I so get that. Just that she was fricking annnnnoying when she does that. She tries to act all Holier-than-thou and humble with her:


"I'm not as smart as you,"

"I'm not as rich as you,"


That's for when I/anyone else gets higher marks or buy something new.


"Nah, its just luck"

"I had to save up to buy a book,"

That's for when she gets higher marks or buy something new.



Like, pleeease. I was 15 when I got so tempted to bite her head off. Or give a nice slap. Or a kick in the ass. Anything to stop her air of "The world just don't get me*sighs bravely*"

You're probably wondering how I can still remember all this and might have some residual ... yuckiness towards said classmate?

Let's just say I read her blog and yes, that air is still there. She's still kinda the same. And you know how some people are not rude/bitchy/mean/obnoxious but some people still don't like them?

Yeap. That's exactly her it.


So, the guy said that if we put up mental barriers, we'll never make it. Lesson learned. I should so use that for other aspects of my life.


I can get that one guy.


Peace Out.

This is How a Lazy Girl Blog.

I have

- Half of a 600ml bottle of mineral water.

- An empty plastic cup thingie that held my ice blended chocolate.

- A pencil.

- My Advanced Financial Math notebook beside me.

-My phone which is missing the back part, the part that covers the battery.

-My room key.


I'm currently

- Looking for answers to a handful of questions my Advanced Financial Math gave us last week.

- Thinking of the workload.

-Thinking of doing a To-Do List and schedule.

-Waiting to go to a friend's room to ask for the solution for a question.


I have to say

- That I'm super lazy.

- I made a Tumblr. Yes, Mozart, stop wincing. To promote it, I put up a nice widget thingie at the side. But, here's the url, just in case you wanna pass it on.

http://hanisz.tumblr.com/

- I promise I have some interesting posts lined up. Also with some rants on stress induced by uni.


And somehow, this line from a song got stuck in my head from this morning:

Hello, is it me you're looking for? I can see it in your eyes.

Hide but Don't Seek.

I know a girl who loves to hide. When she was a kid, her favourite game would be Hide and Seek. As she grew, she still loved to hide - just not in a game with a group of friends but from the world.


Sometimes she wishes she was invisible when people look at her with distaste. When they have "look at the fat girl" written on their faces. She feels apologetic when she sits, wanting to bend low over her desk so the person behind her won't be deprived of the whiteboard. She hears the eyeballs roll, as they lean to the side slightly just to catch a glimpse of what's being written. She feels like an elephant sitting in a room full of deers.


At times, she wants to hide in her room. Hide under the covers, under the bed, anywhere. Hiding herself from the demands and expectations that rest heavily on her shoulders. She wants to turn a deaf ear to her mother calling for another chore. Or dad saying her name in dissapointment. She's often tempted to curl up with the dust bunnies under the bed, whispering to herself that if she does it long enough, they'll give up eventually.


And once in a while, she'll be unlucky enough to like someone. Allow herself to have feelings. She feels silly because she gets notions that, perhaps, they'll return the feelings too. Do they? Never. The guy's gaze will just slide over her as if she isn't there.


They don't give her a second thought. A moment's worth of time. She feels small sitting or standing there. Weeping inside as her heart starts to break again. She wants to hide herself from the rejection. Or just hide her heart and be an ice queen.


She still love to hide. Maybe one day she'll just dissapear into thin air and things will be better for her. One can hope. True?

Week 6- Saying Something.

So, this week's question is:

If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would it be? What would you say to them or ask them?

First of all, Mozart, I'm going to do this in a letter form. Because it seems to be the appropriate format for a question like this.

Dear Atuk(read: grandpa),

The first time I saw a picture of you was when I was 16, a small miniature hidden away by one of Mama's sisters. You indeed looked a quiet man, just how Mama described you. The calm parent. I grew up with stories of how kind and hardworking you were in raising a family of nine. You did many odd jobs to make ends meet and you still had time to look at all of your kids' homework every night.

Over the years, Mama told me how you grew up with a mean stepmother who had no qualms over beating you up with anything she can get her hands on. Thankfully you had plenty of aunts and uncles who interverned and took you in. You eventually married one of your own cousins and started a life of your own.

I'm not going to touch on how none of your 29 grandchildren and 2 great grandchildren got the chance to meet you. I'm sure we all missed out on a wonderful grandfather. What tears me up right now is how you passed away the day before your youngest daughter was born. Everytime I see my youngest aunt, I feel sad for her. I tried to imagine how it must be for her, for everyone during that first few years. Emotionally as Mama had told me how she had to work at a factory, peeling prawns at the age of 15 during weekends. And that was just the beggining.

If I could meet you, I would only say one thing. Thank you for making Mama your favourite. Only when she talks of you that she get the soft loved look on her face. I know she still misses you after 33 years. Maybe one day you'll meet again.

Love,

Hanis, your 6th grandchild.

To read Mozart's. Clickclickclick.

Going Back to Childhood.

I'm currently watching CSI Season 11 on the telly. CSI is one of the few shows that can keep my interest and attention. Along with Project Runway, Glee and some Disney shows. Yes, I'm a sucker for those pre-teens shows that don't have yucky Miley Cyrus in it.

Last night, while waiting for Sonny With a Chance to start, I was channel surfing and came across Rugrats.

God, I fucking love that show. I first watched it about 15 years ago. Fell in love with it and I can proudly say I still love it.

Know what I gonna do now?

Find a Rugrats theme song to download as my message song.

And read all about it on Wikipedia.

While reading Sailormoon manga online. Or maybe I should go and check if they're still selling it. How I love Sailor Mercury and Mars.

Looks like this weekend is one to relive my childhood's interests.

Peace Out.

Guess It's Someone's Birthday Today.

This day last year was a special day for me. Well, it was the birthday of someone who was very special to me at that time. I remember spending the day finishing their birthday gift. A 10,000 word story about a vampire and an angel. It was the long story that came after a series of short ones.

What did I get? Something less than gratitude.

So, in celebration of your birthday today, thank you very much for not being in my life anymore. I've never been better. Seriously. I hope you're still alive and less of a jerk out there. With age comes maturity but I'm not sure about you.

Thank you for all the hurt. Today, I had a wonderful day of classes, test and friends. I got a wonderful mark for last week's test. I would have never been here if it weren't for you not being here anymore.

Happy Birthday.

May you live long enough to regret what you did.

I'm Thinking, Second Blog. Maybe?

So, in my boredom, well more like when I skipped a 4pm class due to being uber tired and sleepy, plus it was raining cats and dogs complete with thunder *was hiding under her blanket* I thought of an idea. Well, a concept for a second blog.

I love writing letters. Usually when I can't say it to the person intended. So, a blog of letters for random people in my life. Perhaps what I think about them. Or how I feel. Anything. Yes, names won't be included unless in certain cases.

This is obviously a short quick post. So, what do you think? Any thoughts? Ideas? Suggestions?

Peace Out.

Attempt at Writing: Prompt 161

This came from prompt 161: Write a mini-story (100-250 words) that begins with "They had nothing to say to each other"

But, I managed to make it 359 words. Oh well. Do read and comment? Godkids are waiting to be given away.




They had nothing to say to each other. As the illicit chatter around them grew quiet at a glare from the librarian, the large room felt too small for her. Picking up a pen before letting it slip from her fingers only a moment later, she was radiating with nerves.


Clearing his throat, he fixed his gaze at her, only staring at the top of her dark head, wishing and waiting with every beat of his heart. His inner voice urged her to look up just so he could look away from those brown eyes. Just to hide the emotions in his.


She pulled out her tiny music player, clumsy too big fingers slipping at her attempt to find a song. A particular song that been playing around in her head the past week. Hearing him clearing his throat, by reflex she looked up at him, caught in his clear gaze.


Her eyes were wide and scared, he thought sadly, unable to wrench his eyes away from how her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. Supressing a sigh when she looked back down to her music player and notes, he looked around the room. Warm, cosy, shelves upon shelves of books.


Seeing a chance of distraction, she reached out and placed the player on his book, earphones plugged in readily. She held her gaze at the gadget as she saw his hands took the earphones before pressing the play button. She could just imagine the song and words tumbling into his ears and mind.


The moment he heard the words, he smiled, giving the song a chance to play out before pulling out the earplugs. Sliding his hand to the middle of the table, he gave a few taps with his fingers, bringing her eyes to his. Raising his hand, slowly but confidently he signed out four words.


I like you too.


She signed back, slowly for his benefit.


Truly?


"Yes,"


Thank God.


"You had nothing to worry about, silly"


Rolling her eyes, she looked down at her notes again before feeling his hand slip into hers. They had nothing to say to each other that couldn't be told with signing.

Week 5- Children.

This week's question is a pretty interesting one if I might say. It has to do with the future and reasoning. Which then lead me to a what if moment.


Do you want children? Why or why not?


At first I told Mozart of course duh. I wouldn't deprive the future people of the world of my wonderful offsprings who will own sadly, only half of my amazing genes. And hopefully half of an equally amazing guy's.

But seriously, yes, I would like to have children of my own.

What? Why would I want to overpopulate the world and basically just give birth to more mouths to feed with this world's limited food supply? Yes, I've read about people with such views. And from what I've read, those people are often, either grew up with crappy parents/had shitty childhoods/went through some form of abuse or just one of those types who thinks children are shitty. I do hate the latter. How I wish their parents thought the same and decided not to have any children of their own.



Moving on to reason reasons of my answer.



From the outside, I had the perfect childhood. From the inside, not so much. Its not as scary as some people's though. To put it simply, my parents weren't those supportive, my daughter is too good for anyone and she's simply wonderful/amazing/smart and we're best friends kind of parents. Ever wonder why I rather keep some problems to myself? Now you know.

No, my parents are wonderful they are. No, I don't wish for them to change. I'm grateful that none of my parents walked out on us, or had an affair, or thought coporeal punishment is a definite must in your daily chores. I grew up into someone who has a sense of right and wrong and don't feel as if she has to be part of a clique.

What does this have to do with my wanting children?

Because I would like to be the parent my parents never were to me. I want to be someone's whole world, even only for a limited time(until they grow older) and know how it is to have someone who is truly yours. I once said to a close friend that I'm afraid I'll be like my mother. Said friend told me, just my fear of that, will prevent it from happening.

I want to be that mother who's best friends with their kids. The one who'll tell her son to always respect a girl's crush on him even if he doesn't return it. The one who'll tell her daughter that teenage boys are often silly and that jerk will soon kick himself in few years time for letting her go. The mother whose kids will come to with problems, not with fear of scoldings.

But I'll still take slices of what my parents taught me and made sure my children will grow up to be even more amazing than me.

And the what if moment?

What if I'm not able to have children of my own? Adoption, perhaps will be the answer. As my very last option. Better yet, I won't even think of it until I absolutely have to.

Oh well, head on over to Mozart and read his post. And comment on it. And on this one too. Remember that.

Peace Out.

Let Me Tell You a Story.

I'm going to tell you a story. An interesting one, in my opinion. It happened about 5 months ago to a young lady who was interning her ass off for a handful of months. So one day her supervisor from university came to visit and fastfowarding the story, the supervisor told her that her office supervisor mentioned how good her English is.

So this young lady just gave a half shrug, awkward and not knowing how to reply to that. But wait, it seems the supervisor from university had her own comment.

"Of course, *insert university's name* puts emphasis on our students' English and they have English classes and so on,"

It was obvious that the supervisor was saying that this young lady's ability to converse in English is all thanks to the university. Now, the interesting part is what went on in this intern's mind.

"Fucking bullshit."

In her opinion, her fluency has nothing to do with her university. Her presentation skills, yes. Her getting over her stage fright, yes. Her English? No. Yes, she learns in English at university but that didn't contribute anything. Just look at some of her classmates. Or a random student in the whole campus. Some are good. Some aren't. Some tempts her to smack their mouth shut.

The good, the bad and the ugly.

So, it was obvious why she was kinda pissed at the supervisor's comment. She was tempted to snap her fingers and go all:

"Lady, my being good in English is due to my reading/writing/listening/watching things in English. Let's not forget my living abroad for 2 short years. That might have sparked her interest Nothing to do with the university's system. So don't take credit for it,"

But the intern said nothing and only gave another shrug. When she went home that day, she told her mother who laughed so hard. And said the exact thing that her daughter thought. The university had nothing to do with it. If so, why most of the other students aren't as good?


The End.


Wonderful story right?

Peace Out.

Muse Needed. A Particular One.

Have you read Mozart's post today? No?

Go take a look, leave a comment after listening to the video/song he posted on there and come back right here.

I'll wait.

*distracts myself with a bar of chocolate*

Welcome back.

So, the wonderful musician decided to try and make it a nice full song. Which made him explain bash in the meaning of a bridge, chorus and verse. And told me to be a good girl and write some for him.

There's just few tiny problems with that.

I wrote the poem with someone in mind. A muse you can say. I need said muse to write what Mozart wants. Well, not really. I can rely on memory. Seeing as I'm such a hopeless case in said muse's situation.

What do I expect in this effort?

1. More dreams.

2. Writing on scraps of paper.

3. Distracted by a line in class, perhaps Economics.


Wish me luck?

Thank you so much.

*gives a godchild*

Peace Out.

Week 4- Best Subject.

First off, I'm sick. I got a bloody sore throat, the freakishly loud sneezes and a blocked nose. No fever, yet but I got the bodily aches. Not from fun. On to this week's topic.

What subject did/do you excel in at school?

For gloating purposes, I mean, to make it easier, I shall talk about my highschool days. Talking about my uni subjects is snore-inducing,babbling by my own, confusing boring. Trust me.

Back in highschool, or as we call it here, secondary school, 5 years of exam oriented torture study, I was the top student somewhere in the middle. Let me see, I never got a B for Math, English and Islamic Studies. Yes. Laugh your hearts out at the last one. The last two never saw anything below 80% *winks winks* yet my parents never seem to remember that.

*thinks which one to talk about*

I'm chooooosing Islamic Studies. If my degree choice was based on high marks, I'll be doing one related to Islamic Studies. Imagine me being properly Islamic without any cursing and so on. *shudders*

Mozart, stop laughing.

However did I get to be one of the top students(10 or so) for this subject? Interest and a bloody good memory. And not to forget, my lovely revision book which is printed out in roman letters. The textbook? That one is written using Arabic alphabets in jawi (google) which makes it(for me) harder to read.

In that subject, there were 5 sections.

Sirah(History)

Akidah

Ibadah

Hadis.

Tilawah.

No, don't ask me to explain those. I barely remember them. But I was the girl in class who asked plenty of questions. And sometimes the girl people want to sit close to during exams. The number of times I helped classmates by whispering answers to them.

*stops my babbling*

So, that was my best subject. What didn't I do well in? Hmmm, Science. And maybe Arts. And Music back in primary school. Yuck. I so bet that might be Mozart's best subject. Read it.

Peace Out.

Spoiled. Who's Not?

I've been thought of/called spoiled for about the 2nd half of my life. Do I mind? Well, only if its for the wrong reasons. Yeah, I know that I only have one brother who's 8 years younger than me so that automatically makes me a spoiled bitch person who never had to share anything in their life. Fuck yes. That's my reason for my hate of sharing a room and people touching my stuffs or hell, clean up the clutter on my desk.

It took me long enough to stop freaking out whenever the weekly cleaner comes to the house and clean my room and put stuffs at other places.

So, if you want to call me spoiled and not piss me off which might result in me flipping you off and saying what I think of you, do use these reasons:

Why Hanis is Spoiled

1. My dislike of public transport. Yes, the first time I used one was at 18. Yes, my parents drove me everywhere. Yes, they were worried for my safety. Is it my fault your parents couldn't care less?

2. Calling Mama and asking her if she happens to go grocery shopping, would she mind picking up cleanser/scrub/shampoo/snacks for me. Yes, I have money which Dad gives me. No, I'm not using that to buy those stuffs. Sorry if your parents are stingy making you buy them on your own.

3. Having Dad pick me up from the hostel to go home every week. What? Take the bus then the train then the bus? Are you fuckingkidding me? Refer to no.1 . My parents don't act like petrol/time is being wasted by picking/sending me.

4. Turning my nose up at certain food, claiming that there's a big chance they won't taste that good. Is it my fault that you weren't brought up by someone who can cook wonderfully and have the time and want to do so? Thought so.


Now, the reasons that made me lose my head and wish to bash someone's into a wall.


1. Bringing home my laundry and not wash them at the hostel by myself. How is that spoiled? You're just jealous. You don't even know that when I go home on weekends, I don't dump my laundry bag and pick it up full of clean clothes. I fucking wash my own clothes with the others. I fucking hang them all out. I fucking bring them all in. To put it easily, I do the whole house's laundry during weekends. Do you?

2. Not being eager to help clean around the hostel. From my observation, most of the time, the people who are eager to do so, are the ones who do nothing at all at home. I work my ass off at home doing chores you let your maid/mom/siblings do and you call me spoiled?

3. Expecting the best things and not liking second hand things. You have to be kidding me right? I never had hand-me-downs. I was brought up by parents who had enough money per kid. Not my fault that you came from a family that didn't plan and decides to have as much children as they want while the incomes stay constant.

4. Going home every week. This one just happened. I love my home. I love my family, despite the arguments. I'm wanted at home. I don't think my parents as just my financial source. I don't just call Dad and ask for more money while stay at the hostel spending the weekends away with friends. Must suck to be you.

5. Being fully financially supported by my parents. Why am I not taking out a student loan like you? Which let me remind you, the exact loan you spend mostly on phones/clothes/a new hairdo/shits that don't have anything to do with school. Dad says he still can support me. When he can't, I'll take a loan. This is refering to my studying. I'm fully aware of paying my parents back when I work. And hey, I have less spending money than all of you, true?

So, call me spoiled. Just not for the wrong reasons.

Peace Out.

Confession No.12

Ignorance is bliss.

Mutual ignorance is not.

Its All In My Head.

Do you have a certain song that brings up a person in your mind everytime you hear it? It might be weird because the song is so not the story of you and them but due to some random memory or conversation, that song has officially became the song played in the movies when a certain person walks in.


Perhaps out of frustation/anger at this mental fuck-up, you change the station everytime that song comes on air, delete it from your playlist and declaring a ban on it to your friends. You go through your life happily until one morning while you're driving, that song comes on and its like your efforts were all in vain.


You're singing along to it while your mind keeps putting up a slideshow of mental pictures. When it ends, you wish to hear it again just so you can re-live that moment. Of course, that moment occurs every single time you hear it. Every single time you listen to the song on repeat.


You'll eventually admit defeat and the words are etched into your long term memory that you'll get an A+ if there's a test on it.


So, do you? Do you have a song like that? Or perhaps, songs reminding you of various people? Or am I, once again, the weird person here?


Yes, I wrote this post while listening to that song. 5th time playing at the moment. No, I'm not a slow typer but sometimes that mental slideshow gets distracting.


Oh, what song is it? Just a song someone happened to sing softly in class while I was doing the same, 5 years ago.


I know, what a sappy song. *yucks* I blame it for making me think at least, the title of the song should apply, if not the words.


Peace Out. (6th time playing)

Current-ness. Yes, I'm That Lazy.

Current activity

*sneezes non-stop like a 6'3 lumberjack*

Current mood

Lazy-sick-tired-bored-lazy.

Current want

Hugh Jackman as the lumberjack guy in Wolverine.

You know, that Origins or someshit movie.

Current need

Shower and dinner.

Current activity(2)

Coughing like a chain smoker.